Sawtooth Spire fernweh

and so it was written, it was done.
to solidify the bond of diaspora, mahler and his kill-brother had hunted the cliffs.
now he moved alongside powerful melkor, two males shimmering with a more leonine air, languid as they laid plans.
"i velcome the peace," mahler grunted, though it occurred to him that they were within the season. he supposed he could speak with melkor upon that at another time; they were congenial with one another. "vhat happened at the villows?"